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pankowcrumbs · 6 days ago

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No training wheels X Dad Joe Keery (Requested)

MasterList

Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist

Sundays had always been sacred in our house not for religious reasons, really, but for the ritual of it. Lazy mornings wrapped in duvets, the smell of coffee drifting through the kitchen, Joe humming something tuneless while making pancakes, and our daughter darting about with unmatched six-year-old energy.

Today was one of those Sundays. The sort where everything feels soaked in gold not just the sunlight but the warmth between us, the unspoken comfort of familiarity. Except today was also different. Today, she had a goal.

She wanted to learn how to ride her bike without training wheels.

We’d talked about it for weeks. She’d been nervous scared of falling, of getting it wrong, of hurting herself but there was a new glint of determination in her eyes this morning as she stood at the front door, helmet in hand, wearing the elbow and knee pads she insisted were "absolutely necessary for survival".

Joe had knelt in front of her to adjust the strap on her helmet, looking so much like her in that moment all messy brown hair and big eyes that my heart clenched.

“You ready, kiddo?” he asked gently.

She nodded with all the gravity of a small soldier heading into battle.

And so, here we were, in the middle of the park. It was quiet, save for the sound of birds and the occasional bark from a dog in the distance. The grass was still damp from morning dew, and the path we’d chosen was smooth, lined with trees just beginning to show signs of spring.

I sat on a nearby bench, sipping lukewarm tea from a thermos, my phone discarded beside me, completely forgotten. All my attention was on them Joe and our daughter stood side by side with the little pink bike that had been her pride and joy since Christmas.

Joe held the seat with one hand and the handlebars with the other, crouched low beside her as he explained the basics again, his voice calm and kind.

“Okay, remember: pedal steady, look ahead, not at your feet, and I’ll be right here the whole time.”

“What if I fall?” she asked, biting her lip.

“Then we dust you off and try again,” he said with a smile, brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek. “Falling’s part of it, kiddo. You’ve got this.”

I felt a pang watching him that quiet kind of admiration that comes when you realise, for the hundredth time, just how good he is. Not just as a partner, but as a dad. He never rushed her. Never teased when she was scared. Just patient, endlessly loving, full of goofy encouragement and unwavering belief.

He jogged alongside her on the first few attempts, holding the back of the seat while she pedalled unsteadily, wobbling like a drunk bumblebee. Each time she stopped or panicked, he crouched down, eye-level, whispering something that made her laugh or nod fiercely.

“Do you think she’ll get it today?” a voice asked behind me.

I looked up to see an older woman smiling warmly, walking her dog. She must’ve been watching too.

“I hope so,” I replied. “But even if not, he’ll make sure she doesn’t stop trying.”

She nodded, glancing over at Joe. “That’s a good dad, that one.”

I smiled, eyes soft. “Yeah. He really is.”

The woman moved on, and I turned back just in time to see Joe let go just for a second and she didn’t fall.

She pedalled three wobbly metres before squealing, veering off the path and tumbling gently onto the grass. Joe was there in an instant, scooping her up, checking her knees, brushing off imaginary dirt.

I couldn’t hear what he said from where I sat, but she threw her arms around his neck and giggled, clinging to him like he was her hero.

Which, of course, he was.

He carried her back to the bench, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and the biggest grin on her face.

“She did it!” Joe said, face flushed with pride, eyes bright.

“Briefly,” she clarified, already reaching for a sip of my tea.

“Still counts,” I said, handing her the cup. “You stayed upright. That’s huge.”

She beamed at me, cheeks pink from effort and excitement.

Joe sat beside me, pulling her into his lap as she chattered non-stop about how the wind felt on her face and how the bike sort of listened to her now. I leaned into his side, letting my head rest on his shoulder for a moment.

“You’re amazing with her,” I murmured.

He smiled, turning his head to kiss my hair. “She makes it easy.”

We sat there like that, the three of us, together on a park bench with the scent of grass and sunshine around us. Eventually, she wriggled free, darting off to chase a butterfly.

Joe watched her go, arms resting on his knees.

“I remember learning to ride a bike,” he said. “My dad ran alongside me down this hill near our house. Let go halfway, and I flew straight into a bush.”

I laughed. “You okay?”

“Bruised my ego more than anything. But I remember how he clapped like I’d just won the Tour de France. That kind of belief stays with you.”

I reached for his hand, lacing our fingers together. “She’s going to remember this forever. You, running beside her. Believing in her.”

“I hope so,” he said, glancing at me with that soft expression that always melted my insides. “I want her to know she can fall and we’ll always be there. That she doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“She knows,” I whispered. “She knows because you show her every single day.”

He looked down, squeezing my hand, then nudged my shoulder with his.

“You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t sprint after a tiny bike.”

“No, but you packed snacks. That’s hero behaviour.”

“Exactly.”

Our daughter came running back, cheeks flushed, arms waving dramatically. “Can I try again? I think I can go further this time!”

Joe stood immediately, full of that endless, contagious energy she gave him. “Let’s do it!”

I watched them return to the path her climbing back on with a bit more confidence, Joe crouching down again, encouraging her with every word. He didn’t hover this time. After a few false starts, he let go and she kept going.

Five metres. Then ten. She wobbled, overcorrected, nearly tipped and then kept going.

My heart soared. I stood up, unable to help myself, clapping and cheering like an idiot. She grinned as she sped past, squealing, “Mum! I’m doing it!”

Joe laughed, arms thrown in the air like she’d just landed a gold medal. “That’s my girl!”

She eventually rolled to a stop, skidding slightly into the grass, but popped up like a spring. Joe ran to her, lifting her off the bike and spinning her around until she was giggling uncontrollably.

They collapsed into a hug on the grass, her helmet askew, his hoodie stained with a bit of mud. And I thought: This is what joy looks like.

They walked back to me together her pushing the bike, Joe with his hand on her back, guiding gently and when they reached me, she threw herself into my arms.

“I did it, Mum!”

“You absolutely did, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

She pulled away, breathless, beaming, and grabbed Joe’s hand. “Daddy helped me. He ran so fast. Like a superhero.”

Joe grinned. “More like a tired sidekick, but I’ll take it.”

We packed up not long after, loading the bike into the boot of the car while she munched on apple slices and recounted every second of her great bike ride to no one in particular.

As Joe buckled her into her car seat, she looked up at him, eyes suddenly serious.

“Can we do it again next Sunday?”

He kissed her forehead. “Every Sunday, if you want.”

She nodded, satisfied, and closed her eyes, already half-asleep before we even pulled out of the car park.

The drive home was quiet. Joe reached across the centre console and took my hand in his, thumb brushing the back of it slowly.

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joeliz99 · 8 months ago

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A Taste of Italy- Joe Keery

Description: In a serendipitous turn of events, (Y/N) celebrates her birthday alone in Positano, only to find unexpected companionship and romance as she shares a day of cooking and exploring Positano's beauty with the charming Joe.

Warnings: None, Pure Fluff, Non-established relationship, RPF Fic

Word count: 2378

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The small, intimate kitchen was filled with laughter as (Y/N) stood uncomfortably in front of her designated table. Usually, she considered herself a social butterfly, but today, it felt like her social skills had been drained. She was still trying to get over the fact that her friend had missed their flight to Positano, Italy, after planning this whole day for so long. Instead, she found herself alone in a cooking class she had refused to cancel at the last minute.

The instructor, with a thick Italian accent, provided an overview of the class. Almost every ingredient was laid out in front of her, and a glass of wine stood invitingly on the table. She stared at it for a moment before taking a sip, savoring the various flavor notes on her tongue. As she was about to go for a second try, someone stood next to her, removing his sunglasses and fixing his messy hair while muttering an out-of-breath hello.

"I'm sorry. Do you mind if I station here?" the guy asked, noticing her glance.

"Oh, not at all. Make yourself comfortable," she replied with a smile as he put on his apron.

"Thank you. I almost didn’t make it, you know? The streets are so confusing around here. I’m still sweating," he said. (Y/N) genuinely laughed. He was a bit of a mess, but he didn’t seem to mind at all.

"You'll get used to it. Give it a day or two and you'll have them all memorized."

"Are you sure? I’ve been here for a week now. I think I'm past that point," he replied with a grin, his sunburned cheeks now making complete sense.

(Y/N) was about to respond when the instructor’s voice filled the space once again. It was time to learn about Italian cuisine. Soon, the small kitchen was filled with low lounge music and the aroma of homemade sauces mingled with aromatic herbs and light chatter. Joe and (Y/N) worked on their pasta, each having a different experience. While (Y/N) had a natural gift for cooking, Joe struggled to knead the flour and ingredients into a smooth ball. (Y/N) glanced over frequently, almost wanting to help, seeing him with flour on his face, his hair messier than before, and a funny frown of concentration.

"Um... Mind if I help?" she asked after a moment. He looked up, noticing she was about to cut her dough, and nodded sheepishly. "It’s easier if you use your knuckles and press down. I don't know the logistics, but it works." She moved closer and demonstrated. "See?"

"Uhh... Yeah. Let me try," he said, taking over the job again. "How do I keep it from being clumpy?"

"Just keep kneading. It’ll come together soon."

They continued working with concentration, engaging in constant chatter while flattening the pasta, cutting it, and spiraling it into balls to cook in the boiling water.

"I'm going to need another glass of wine at this rate," Joe exclaimed, placing his hands on his hips dramatically. (Y/N) laughed, shaking her head as she took both empty glasses and walked over to the counter to refill them. He smiled excitedly and thanked her as she handed him a glass, and she took a sip from hers.

"I'm Joe, by the way. Nice to meet you." He extended his hand for a formal greeting, regretting it almost immediately when he noticed his hand was covered in flour. However, (Y/N) smiled and shook his hand without hesitation, her own hand looking nearly as floury.

"(Y/N), pleasure to meet you."

Joe took a sip of his wine and leaned against the counter, glancing at the bubbling pot. "So, if I don’t mess this up, maybe I’ll actually be able to cook this at home. Though, I’ll probably end up with takeout pizza instead."

(Y/N) smiled, swirling her own glass. "Pasta’s easier than it looks. If you can navigate a new country solo, this should be a walk in the park."

"Who said I was traveling alone, though?" Joe's teasing made (Y/N) blink in surprise, feeling her face flush with embarrassment as his laugh and friendly tap on her arm made the situation worse. "I’m just joking. You’re right, though. But you��re giving me too much credit. I almost burned my kitchen down trying to make toast once."

"Toast? That’s impressive," she teased, trying to regain her composure. "I think you might be in the wrong class."

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hey, everyone has their talents. That’s exactly why I’m here. My life motto is: When in Italy, be a new man."

"Oh my God," (Y/N) muttered, rolling her eyes with a smile as they noticed it was time to finish and assemble their first plate of pasta.

Everyone had the chance to plate their pasta, adding homemade sauces, grating some cheese, and sitting down to enjoy their creations while listening to local music and comedic stories from the chef.

Joe and (Y/N) sat together, savoring every bite of their simple yet satisfying meal. It felt like an explosion of flavors, enhanced by good company and an amazing ambiance. After such a delightful meal came (Y/N)’s most awaited part: Tiramisu.

Joe noticed the happiness on her face as she helped the chef assemble the dessert, having been pushed to volunteer. Tiramisu was her favorite dessert. After a fantastic demonstration, they all tasted the chef’s recipe, and Joe smiled widely seeing (Y/N) enjoy every bite with her eyes closed and muttering praises.

"Amazing, right?" he asked.

"Every time I come to Italy, I need to eat like a thousand of these. No questions asked," she replied with a satisfied grin.

"So, you're a regular traveler of these parts? Lucky girl."

"Not really," she said with a shrug. "I wish. But who has the money to come here often?" She laughed softly, unaware of Joe’s thoughtful expression. "It’s my second time, actually. Last time I spent two weeks traveling around Italy. One of the best experiences ever. This time is kind of different."

He leaned in slightly, intrigued. "Special occasion, or just a much-needed getaway?"

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, then sighed with a sheepish smile. "Well… It’s actually my birthday today."

Joe’s eyes widened. "Wait, what? Your birthday?" His voice was full of surprise and warmth. "And you’re spending it here, in a cooking class?"

"Yeah, well… I actually love cooking," she chuckled. "My friend was supposed to be here, but she missed her flight. So, I’m making the most of it on my own."

"Well, happy birthday!" Joe said, lifting his wine glass in an impromptu toast. "You should’ve told me earlier! We could’ve made this a full-on celebration!"

(Y/N) laughed softly, clinking her glass against his. "It’s no big deal. Honestly, the day has been fun enough. And the food makes it worth it."

Joe looked at her with a lingering smile, as if something clicked in his mind. After the class finished, the two stood outside the small, rustic kitchen, the sun starting to dip behind the cliffs of Positano, casting golden hues across the town.

"Well, this was fun," (Y/N) said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Thanks for being such good company, Joe. I hope you have the best time for the rest of your stay."

"Yeah, same to you. Take care, (Y/N)..." he replied, but as she turned to leave, something tugged at him. He hesitated, watching her walk a few steps away, before suddenly calling out, "Hey, wait!"

She turned, eyebrows raised. "Yeah?"

Joe took a deep breath, stepping closer to her. "I was just thinking… You shouldn’t have to spend your birthday alone. I mean, not if you don’t want to."

(Y/N) tilted her head, intrigued. "What are you suggesting?"

He smiled, a little shyly at first but then with more confidence. "Why don’t we spend the rest of the day together? I know a few places around here that will make this a day you won’t forget. We can grab drinks, maybe hit the beach, whatever you want." He paused, looking sincere. "I promise you won’t regret it."

(Y/N) blinked, taken aback by his offer but touched by his spontaneity. She felt her hesitation melt away as she smiled and nodded. "Okay, so... lead the way."

They began their afternoon by renting bikes to explore the charming streets of Positano. As they pedaled through the winding roads, the vibrant, stacked houses and stunning water views unfolded around them. The town’s narrow streets were a delightful maze, with antique cars parked along the curbs and locals strolling leisurely.

(Y/N) found herself wobbling a bit on the bike, struggling with the numerous curves and inclines. She tried to hide her clumsiness, but Joe noticed her occasional near-falls. “Having a bit of trouble there?” he teased with a grin.

“Not at all,” (Y/N) replied, though her tight grip on the handlebars gave away her struggle. “I’m having the best time of my life.”

Joe chuckled, adjusting his pace to stay beside her. “You’re doing great!”

Their banter continued as they cycled past picturesque scenes and lively street vendors. The vibrant energy of Positano made their exploration both exhilarating and memorable.

After a while, they parked their bikes and walked along the beach, where she eagerly began collecting seashells. Joe watched her with an amused smile, noting her focused effort. “Is this something you always do?” he asked.

(Y/N) looked up, a handful of colorful shells in her hands. “Only sometimes. I’m kind of amazed by everything that comes from the ocean. So... yeah. Something special to have with me.”

Joe nodded. “Let me help you then.”

They finally arrived at a beachside café, the sun beginning to dip, casting a warm, golden light over the scene. Joe and (Y/N) found a quaint spot where local musicians played lively tunes. They settled at a table with refreshing drinks, taking in the ambiance and the stunning view. As the music gradually picked up its tempo, Joe couldn’t resist doing what was on his mind.

With a playful grin, he extended his hand to (Y/N). “Care to join me?”

At first, (Y/N) hesitated, but his infectious enthusiasm and the cheerful music coaxed her into the small open space in front of the café. As they danced, the rhythm carried them into a joyful, carefree moment. Joe attempted to teach (Y/N) a few dance steps, and she couldn’t help but tease him about his “unique” moves. Their laughter and playful banter filled the air.

As the music slowed, they found themselves in a quieter, more intimate moment. They exchanged stares filled with unspoken understanding, their connection deepening in the soft glow of the setting sun. It was a silent acknowledgment of the bond they were forming.

After their dance, Joe suggested they head to a secluded restaurant he knew about. Tucked away from the bustling tourist spots, it offered a cozy atmosphere with a stunning view of Positano’s twinkling lights. They enjoyed a delectable meal, and their conversation flowed effortlessly. Their genuine interest and attentiveness created a deeper connection as they discussed favorite foods, travel experiences, and personal aspirations.

“So, what kind of cake would you like for your birthday?” he asked, his eyes sparkling.

(Y/N) laughed softly, shaking her head. “Actually, I’m not much of a cake person. Gelato’s more my style.”

Joe’s face lit up with a bright grin. “Perfect! Then we’ll do gelato.”

Following dinner, he led (Y/N) to a charming gelato shop renowned for its rich and colorful flavors. As they entered, they both ordered their own cones with an assortment of flavors. With a playful flair, Joe thanked the cashier and turned to begin singing “Happy Birthday” in an endearingly off-key voice. Patrons in the shop glanced over with amused smiles as (Y/N) looked on, touched by the effort and attention.

With their gelato cones still in hand, they took a final, peaceful stroll along the same streets they had explored earlier. When they arrived at (Y/N)’s BnB, the moonlight bathed the entrance in a soft glow. They stood there, the tranquil night around them creating a serene backdrop. Joe took a deep breath, his gaze lingering on (Y/N) as he hesitated.

After a moment, he leaned in slightly, his eyes searching hers. The warmth of their shared day seemed to wrap around them like a blanket. Joe's hand gently grazed (Y/N)’s cheek, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of her face. His touch was soft and tentative, savoring every second of their close proximity.

“I’ve really enjoyed today,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “I know this will sound somewhat crazy, but... I was wondering...” He hesitated again, his hand moving to rest on her waist, pulling her just a fraction closer.

(Y/N) could feel her heart racing as she looked up at him. The intensity in his eyes matched the tenderness of his touch. “Wondering about what?” she managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joe took another deep breath, his gaze roaming over her features—her eyes, her lips, the way the moonlight made her skin glow. “If maybe... we could do this again again sometime. Go out, explore more together.”

There was a charged silence as they both felt the weight of his words. Joe’s fingers lingered at her waist, his thumb gently brushing her hip. (Y/N) could see the hope and earnestness in his eyes, and she found herself drawn closer to him.

Finally, (Y/N) smiled, her eyes softening. “I’d like that very much.”

Joe’s smile widened, and he leaned in, closing the remaining distance between them. His hand gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing across her delicate jawline and placing finally his hand on her neck. Their kiss was soft and tender, an intimate connection heightened by the serene surroundings. The world seemed to fall away as they shared that perfect moment, each touch and caress magnified by the gentle moonlight.

As they pulled back, Joe looked at (Y/N) with a hopeful smile. “So, tomorrow sounds good?”

(Y/N) laughed softly, her heart full. “Yes, definitely.”

They parted with a warm, lingering hug, both feeling that this birthday had become a day to remember, filled with new beginnings and the promise of more to come.

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